


Dear Thisbe

by studiojude



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Henry is being dramatic and poetic, M/M, One Shot, Some light angst, with a fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/studiojude/pseuds/studiojude
Summary: A little exploration into the moment during their LA trip where Henry sneaks his "Dear Thisbe" message into Alex's kimono.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	Dear Thisbe

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wondered what led Henry to put that little message into the kimono, so this was my way of exploring that! I may have taken a little liberty with descriptions of Henry's childhood, but I can totally see Catharine doing that with baby Henry and it melts my heart so I had to include it. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

The light from the moon sneaks in through the crack in the hotel curtains, staining everything in watery shadows. Henry, who had extracted himself from Alex some while ago, was sitting at the edge of their bed staring at the paper in his hand. He couldn’t sleep, hadn’t been able to shut his brain off, so he got up and did what he usually did when the insomnia kicked in; he wrote. Except this time it was different. The pen in his hand was unusually still and as he sat there, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Alex long enough to scribble anything down.

Tonight had been...well, it had been perfect. Getting too drunk off of expensive vodka, performing Queen to a bar full of queer people cheering him on, getting off in a public restroom with the man that he...loves. _Shit_ , Henry thinks. He knows it’s true, it’s been true for a while now. He can’t lie to himself anymore. He _loves_ Alex despite it all, despite the fact that it could utterly ruin him. He drops the paper and the pen, scrubbing both hands over his face in tired frustration. Alex shifts closer to Henry in the bed, as if even his unconscious body needs to be closer to him, and Henry can feel the little bit of heat from the other man's body warm up the cold space that had existed in between them just seconds ago. It was foolish, he knew, to wish that everything that was stopping them from taking this further to disappear as quickly as that small space had, but then again he had never been good at keeping hope at bay. That had always been his problem, that despite everything, he still _hoped_.

When he was uni, despite the fact that he was an English major, he had become obsessed with the Classics. He studied everything he could get a hold of; trying his hand at becoming fluent in Latin and Greek or losing himself in the politics of ancient Rome. But what he found that he loved most of all, were the myths. As a little boy, he had always loved the stars. To help him fall asleep at night, his mum used to sit at the edge of his bed and recite the names of the constellations until his eyes drifted shut. What he didn’t realize at the time was that the stars came with stories; whole worlds full of love and death, triumph and despair, war and peace, stories that had been in the collective mind of humans for thousands of years. As he expanded his knowledge of mythology, he became fixated on one in particular: the story of Pyramus and Thisbe. The story was told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and it goes like this:

Pyramus and Thisbe were lovers who occupied two houses that shared a wall. They were forbidden by their parents to be wed due to the parent’s rivalry. Through a crack in the shared wall, they would whisper their love for each other; secret promises and old hopes. One day, they arranged to meet under a mulberry tree outside of town, to finally meet face to face. Thisbe arrived first, but upon seeing a lioness with a bloody mouth from a recent kill, she flees and leaves behind her cloak. When Pyramus arrived, he was horrified at the sight of Thisbe's cloak, which the lioness had torn and left behind covered in blood. Assuming that a wild beast had killed her, Pyramus kills himself by falling upon his sword. His blood coats the previously white mulberry’s. Thisbe returned, eager to tell Pyramus what had happened to her, but she instead finds Pyramus' dead body under the shade of the mulberry tree. Thisbe, overcome with grief, stabs herself with the same sword. The Gods forever change mulberries to be a dark, blood red, to commemorate the love that Pyramus and Thisbe had shared.

The myth is tragic and Henry could never get it to quite leave his mind, even now as he sits in the bruised light of the LA hotel room. It’s a cruel irony that the myth would come to perfectly describe how his love life would feel, yet he and Alex are separated by more than just a wall. Most of the time it felt like even the stars themselves were against them, and yet somehow, they had found a crack.

Henry had been so lost in these thoughts that he hadn’t realized he had picked up the pen and paper and written something down:

_Dear Thisbe,_

_I wish there weren’t a wall._

_Love, Pyramus_

He stared at it for a moment, trying to furiously blink back the tears that had appeared in his eyes. He didn’t have any time to fully process what this all meant before both phone alarms were going off simultaneously from their respective bedside tables. He jumped guiltily, shoving the slip of paper into the first item of clothing that had been lying at his feet, not realizing that it had been Alex’s teal kimono from the night before. He felt a hand slid up his back and squeeze his shoulder gently.

“Morning, sweetheart” comes Alex’s sleepy, soft voice. Henry felt his chest tighten at the words, if only Alex knew the affect those endearments had on him. He put a smile on his face and turned around, leaning down to kiss Alex despite the fact that they both have horrendous morning breath and smell like the bar,

“Good morning, love.”

They shower together. Henry’s mood turned dark and sour over the lack of sleep and the harsh reality that he would shortly have to return to life without Alex by his side. He hates getting ready for the day, slowly building the Prince Henry of Wales facade that he had been forced to hide behind for so long. He hates the look on Alex’s face, the one that his own must be mirroring, one that reads “it’s all too much without you.” But most of all, he hates that little bit of hope wriggling in the pit of his stomach. Hope that the wall could come down, hope that Alex loves him back, hope that Henry can get through this unscathed.

Through it all, as they meet the others in the hall with Alex at his side, Henry realizes with a start: this was where he was meant to be, all along.

Stars be damned.


End file.
